revivalproject | Two Weird Planets

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Two Weird Planets

WHO: Dustin, Felwinter, Tony, the Palm Cottage crew, and OPEN
WHERE: The Charcoal Star Map Roof in Temba, crew quarters on the Palm Cottage, various crafting guilds, the Eorzean wilds, and the Gold Saucer
WHAT: Curiosities, Crabbiness, Collecting, Crafting, and Cards
WHEN: First prompt is backdated to an evening in early July; the rest take place throughout the Eorzea event, July 17th - August 10th.
WARNINGS: Dustin is mean and uses mean words. Also, there might be violence/injury if monsters (or guards??) get involved on some of these quests.
NOTES: An outfit for the event!

1. Northwestern Temba Rooftops [Closed to Felwinter]

It's been a week. And, just like they'd agreed, Dustin is here - specifically, on the roof he and Felwinter had previously met. The familiar campfire has been lit to signal his presence, though its base is a lot neater than it has been; it rained yesterday, ruining the residual charcoal pile and washing away nearly two weeks of star map work in the process.

The boy who'd spent so much time drawing these maps is, perhaps, understandably perturbed - but not actually for that reason. Rather, as he paces agitatedly around the perimeter of the roof, the only thing going through his head is how he won't be able to keep up his end of the deal.

So fucking stupid. Dustin viciously kicks a piece of loose pavement in his path. Making promises I can't keep. Dumbass. I don't even know if he'll be pissed or not. I just wanna get this shit over with and go to sleep.

He pauses, casting a harried glance over the roof's edge.

Where the fuck is he?

2. Palm Cottage Crew Quarters [Closed to Palm Cottage Crew]

When the Palm Cottage and her crew slip into orbit around Eorzea and receive their directions for planet-side, Dustin does not leave the ship. Instead, he grabs the items the Agrii have left for him in his labeled chest, glances at the note with glassy eyes, stuffs it in his pocket and stomps his way back to crew quarters in silence.

In fact, Dustin's been pretty quiet the whole trip. Too busy sulking. His first time in space--fucking space--and he can't even enjoy it because the Agrii forced him here. They really do seem to have a knack for pissing in his cereal. So Dustin spends his time thinking about the best way to get back at them, and by the end of their journey he's settled on a protest of inaction. Any precious seconds he can spend not doing what the Agrii want him to do are victories, by Dustin's estimation. They can get some other sucker to go fuck around for their 'Seek Rats' or whatever. Not this guy.

He wastes the whole first day like this. A lot of it is spent just laying on the top bunk he's claimed, long since devoid of sheets that he stole on day one, tossing the bundled shawl of the outfit the Agrii provided him at the ceiling.

Thump. Thump.

That's definitely not going to get annoying.

3. Gridania Crafting Guilds [OTA]

Thankfully, Dustin's fit of petulance doesn't last long. By the second day he's on the ground like most everyone else.

He's surprised at how quickly he's able to find a place here. The concept of having to massage a population of strangers into giving him intel is daunting, to say the least, which is why Dustin immediately notices how ready the locals are to give him work. They peddle quests like merchants, flagging down passerby, talking loudly about their misgivings, never seeming to care about supply of potential applicants. They even have honest-to-god quest markers. To call the experience 'surreal' would be an understatement.

Dustin ends up having to turn down the first few requests, realizing quickly that he's not equipped to handle the monster-slaying or rumor-mongering needs of these people, but it doesn't take him too long to find something much more achievable: Apprentice woodworking. And from there, the whole world opens up to him.

The biggest hurdle is the tools. The Eorzeans don't use the same sorts of equipment that Dustin is used to for probably obvious reasons, though that equipment also appears to operate with different laws of physics, too. 'Magic,' apparently. All he knows is that this saw he's been given is too light and big to handle the whittling work he's able to squeeze out of it, yet here he is, gently shaping the curved end of a longbow with it like he's handling a precision carving knife. This shit just works and it's incredible.

Dustin does most of his carpentry (and eventually leatherworking) outside, on the small terraces facing the large, dark forest that surrounds Gridania. People wander past, but they don't bother him. The locals go about their business with a silent dignity that Dustin appreciates; perhaps they, too, just want to be in their own head, appreciating the simple beauty of this untouched wilderness.

His fellow spies from Agra-10, on the other hand, are probably not so quiet.

4. Ul'dah Crafting Guilds [OTA]

Dustin does not find Ul'dah nearly so pleasant.

Yes, it has more crafting professions for him to volunteer at. Yes, one of those is motherfucking alchemy. But also it's loud, full of little greasy merchants, and his customers keep riding his ass about meeting deadlines and cutting material costs and other stupid shit that Dustin does not have the patience for. However, for everything that Ul'dah lacks in decorum, it makes up for in quality of information. Dustin cannot fault the locals for their respect in coin and their diligence to follow up on debts paid. His crafting quests here have paid out twice as well as the ones in Gridania.

That being said, he doesn't want to spend any more time around them than he absolutely has to, so most of his days in Ul'dah are spent in the guilds proper. He finds that the Alchemists' Guild calls to him moreso than the others. The underpinnings of basic chemistry spun with something else is absolutely mesmerizing, enough that it helps to block out all the noise of the bustling stalls outside. Or the fact that he's in the company of someone else from Agra-10. Face down over a mortar and pestle, partially-made health potion bubbling over a flame nearby, Dustin reaches out a free hand to where he knows he set aside that water shard. It's missing now. He frowns at the table and, not looking up, snaps his fingers in the direction of the missing ingredient.

"Hey. I need that. Give it back."

5. Limsa Lominsa Crafting Guilds/Markets [OTA]

Limsa Lominsa is a unique blend of exciting jobs and absolute chaos. Dustin settles into being both an armorer and a blacksmith very well - especially so with blacksmithing, a job that he doubts he would ever have the constitution to perform without the assistance of magical tools - however the company that he finds himself in when he tries to sell to the market, or find an isolated place to work by the docks, is...questionable. Something about being surrounded by pirates makes him feel nervous. Sure, they're all very friendly and helpful pirates that he knows are being strong-armed by the local government into cooperating, but they wouldn't stick with the name if they didn't at least partially adhere to the definition, right?

In any case, Dustin is very paranoid at all times here and he constantly feels like he's being tailed. Maybe he is? He hasn't been yet, but today could be the day. It's the primary thought running through his head as he deals with the vendor currently trying to haggle a price for the set of simple leather armor he's trying to sell them. Dustin knows he's being scalped at the current offer and he couldn't care less. He feels so many eyes on the back of his neck right now.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Dustin hisses at the hapless merchant, shoulders hunched as he quickly pushes the roughly-bundled armor over the booth's counter. "Just take it, would you? I'm--I'm in a hurry."

6. Eorzean Wilds [OTA]

Alongside crafting stuff comes gathering stuff, and Eorzea provides on this front, too. There are plenty of people Dustin finds that have quests related to finding unique items out in the wilderness, with just as many willing to let him keep any extra materials he comes across along the way. The related guilds even loan him specialized tools for the job. He supposes he should be thankful for all of this generosity.

But there's a catch.

All of the best gathering spots seem to be inevitably patrolled by monsters. It makes a kind of sense, Dustin has to admit - these materials wouldn't be so sought-after if there wasn't a risk involved in procuring them, else everyone and their mother with a basic pickaxe would go out and dig the mountains dry. Problem is, Dustin is one of those people; he has made plenty of weapons and armor, and is even wearing some of it right now, yet he has no confidence in his ability to protect himself if he's attacked. A couple of daggers and a studded leather jacket will only get him so far without any kind of combat experience.

The only real solution to this problem is to bring someone along that can fight. Regrettably. So here he is, at the edge of town, shuffling his feet and anxiously looking around for faces he recognizes that might be headed in the same direction. Finding one, Dustin meets their eyes and tries to wave them over as subtly as possible.

"Hey! You. Where are you headed?"

Other times - well, most times really - Dustin lacks the patience to wait and tries his luck on his own. It works out well enough at first, as the simpler materials are not far off the main paths and the monsters he catches sight of are generally small and preoccupied with their own business. All he has to do is stay quiet and take his time so he doesn't draw any unwanted attention.

The first few solo ventures leave they boy emboldened. So when he goes out just a little bit further from the trail to park at an isolated pond, rumored to have rare fish in it that some merchant or other wants to cook for his fiance, Dustin is maybe a touch too confident that the local wildlife will leave him alone.

He is mistaken.

Diving out of the way from a swiped tail, Dustin abandons his fishing pole and scrambles for the rocks bordering the water. He's being menaced by some kind of giant, very angry salamander, either territorial or hungry or both. Honestly Dustin can't be bothered for those sorts of details right now.

Shit shit shit! He skids to a stop and presses his back to the cool stone, desperately trying to control his panicked breathing. Way too close. Fuck! How am I supposed to shake this thing?!

On the other side, Dustin hears the heavy footfalls of the salamander following his path up the slope.

Fuck!!

7. Gold Saucer [One thread for Tony, all others OTA]

For Tony

A casino is the last place Dustin expected to find himself. He'd never be caught dead gambling - it's a statistically ruinous waste of money, and the games that can be exploited are often a ruinous waste of time, besides. There are more useful ways for him to make money.

It's not until he gets some intel that the Gold Saucer is selling a few strange, wooden boxes as grand prizes that he starts to reconsider. Now this is something Dustin can justify sinking a bit of time into.

The unpleasantly loud and busy atmosphere is oppressive, enough to drive Dustin to look for the familiar. Scratch cards, racing, costume contests...nothing piques his interest at first. But then he stumbles on a small table in a corner, one of several like it, green-felted with a semi-circle of chairs and a dealer. Dustin slips into the crowd to observe a few hands and finds that whatever game they're playing works remarkably like blackjack. It only takes a round or so for him to memorize this foreign game's rules and card composition, which is enough for him to recognize that he could easily cheat.

Worth a try. Drawing his shawl further over his face in case this massively backfires, Dustin shuffles out of the crowd and takes a seat at the table, signaling for a hand by tapping two fingers to the velvet. As he unconsciously glances around at the rest of the contestants, one of them sees the writing on the wall (and likely his coinpurse) and returns his cards, scuttling away to the bar as the House scoops up his coin. Another man takes his place - some flashy asshole in shades. Dustin narrows his eyes at him briefly before returning his attention to the cards.

Don't need to focus on anyone else, he chides himself. Just count the cards and you'll do fine.

OTA

Later, Dustin settles on playing a game that requires a bit more hard strategy - without needing to cheat at it, anyway.

He's learned the rules of Triple Triad from various inhabitants of the three cities and, inevitably, won their cards off of all of them, so it's a pleasant surprise when he finds this deceptively simple card game being played in a tournament structure at the Gold Saucer. Easy money. It helps that the local custom is to give away one of your best cards if you lose a match, so each win Dustin accumulates makes the next one even easier.

It's starting to get a little boring, actually. Slumped back in his chair, Dustin waits for his next opponent at the gaming table, languidly scratching his head through his hair until he suddenly realizes--

--This is someone else from Agra-10. Dustin's expression shifts rapidly from boredom to surprise to blanket irritation. Looks like the fun's over.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

For the first time in a surprisingly long time, Dustin looks distinctly annoyed. This isn't directed at being found out as someone else from off-world - actually, the fact that Cayde didn't recognize him already causes Dustin a flash of confusion. He supposes he can't expect everyone to memorize everyone else's faces and, in Cayde's case, voices. He nods to confirm.

No, what's irritating him is that the Exo doesn't seem to be taking his offer to pay back the assistance seriously. Dustin doesn't like feeling in debt to someone. It's unfamiliar, plus deeply disconcerting.

I'll just have to do something else for him later, he resolves. More important priorities right now.

"Yeah, I've got, ah--" Dustin lifts his other hand to indicate the thick leather gloves he's wearing with their accentuated cuffs. He doesn't stop or give explicit permission for Cayde to touch his arm, but he does visibly prepare himself for it, resting his forehead on his knees and taking a few steadying breaths. It's probably difficult to get a good look at his injury beneath the baggy sleeves of his coat, though if Cayde touches his shoulder the swelling should be obvious.

"--Don't just yank on it," he hisses. Cayde probably knows what he's doing, but Dustin can't be sure. Or maybe he's rambling to buy time from the inevitable. Probably the latter more than the former. "You'll tear something. Pull down and out - one smooth motion. If you fuck this up and make it worse, I take back everything I said earlier."

Not that Cayde said he wouldn't accept being repaid, he just figures dislocated limbs are more pressing things to deal with at the moment.

The helmet hides the roll of his optics as Dustin goes off. He'll take it as nervous chatter, which is thoroughly understandable. After all, Cayde's pretty much a stranger and the kid's in pain, probably scared. The Exo may not have had to reset a dislocated limb in a long while but he remembers how better than the when, might've even had to fix his own busted arm at some point or another when he was still flesh and bone.

"Bite," he says, the only head's up he gives although he waits a beat to see that Dustin does clamp down so he won't bite his tongue off. "One--"

That's all there is to the countdown. He's quick about it, smooth as Dustin could possibly ask for.

Edited 2022-07-28 21:39 (UTC)

For all of his previous bluster, Dustin is compliant, gripping a hefty chunk of his glove's cuff in his teeth as he settles further into his knees. He's far too miserable with pain to keep arguing, or even to really critically analyze if he should be putting as much trust in this guy as he has. There's only the problem and a solution. Dustin will accept this one.

...Which is why the aborted countdown ends up being so jarring. His shoulder pops back into place with an unpleasant noise, accompanied by Dustin's agonized keening into his glove. He spits out the cuff in short order.

"--Fuck!" Dustin shoots Cayde a glare of betrayal, pulling his arm away and into his chest. "You said--ragh, fucking asshole! Can't believe I fell for that shit!"

Sounds like he's feeling better!

Cayde looks at him in mild amusement, or at least it would have been if not for the damned helmet. He sets a hand on his knee to keep his balance, watching Dustin before chuffing a faint laugh.

"Look, it's better when you're not completely expecting it because otherwise the build-up makes it worse. Your arm's fine, right?" He waits a moment just to be sure before he pushes himself back onto his feet, muttering about getting old as he favors one leg. "You're welcome, by the way."

With the kid done, he may as well take care of himself. The Hunter holds a hand out and in a shimmer of light, a small red and gray drone of sorts unfolds from out of thin air. "Hey buddy, can you take care of this?"

The kid's fine--distinctly annoyed and feeling a little cheated, but physically he's looking a lot better. Even as he's glowering at Cayde, Dustin carefully tests rolling his shoulder again and finds, though incredibly stiff and sore, everything feels like it's responding the way it should be without too much discomfort.

"Convenient for you," he mutters, wiping the lingering cold sweat from his forehead before likewise hauling himself to his feet. His arm remains slung across his chest; it's more comfortable this way, and besides, he shouldn't be moving it too much anyway while his aggravated muscles sort themselves out.

Cayde doesn't get anything in return for his implied thanks except a petulant huff - Dustin's way too irritated to do anything kinder - but he doesn't challenge the Exo further on his methods or his reasoning, so surely he can't be too mad. In fact, the teen looks absolutely star-struck when Cayde appears to summon a little hovering robot out of nowhere, a stark contrast to the affected agitation he was wearing just moments earlier.

"How--?" Dustin's brow knits. "--Where the hell have you been hiding that?"

The abrupt shift in the kid's demeanor has both Hunter and Ghost glance over at him.

"Never really figured that out. In an interspatial pocket between time and space, who knows." Cayde gives his Ghost a nod, and a similar shimmer of light seems to evaporate off of him in the next moment. He shakes out his leg, redistributing his weight as it seems the limp is no longer a problem. "Aah, that's better. It'll be annoying enough not having a gun out here, dealing with a bum leg on the side."

He looks at Dustin. "Sorry, if she could extend her services I'd have her look at you too but it's kind of a personalized thing." Even as he says it he tilts his head, as though unsure that that's exactly the wording to be used. It's not long after that he nods to himself- seems it works as well as anything by way of explanation.

Dustin's mind whirls in a few moments of frantic possibility. Interspacial..is he implying the existence of pocket dimensions? And he can freely pull from them? Would this align with String Theory, or is it a whole new interpretation of quantum that--

Forcibly, he grinds his thoughts to a halt with another irritable frown.

--I'm giving him way too much credit, aren't I? Almost definitely talking out his ass.

Annoyed at the answers that he won't be getting, Dustin tries to content himself with the ones he believes are more reasonable. "I wouldn't expect her to," he says, though his tone retains a hint of disappointment from his previous musings. Meanwhile he's picking up his satchel - careful to sling the strap over his good shoulder - and stooping for the fishing pole near it. "I imagine she would do as much good for my injuries as that healing potion I drank would do for you."

A beat. Dustin glances, pensive, between Cayde and his Ghost.

"...But that's an assumption. Hopefully you won't need a reason to ever test it." He shrugs with a slight wince. "What's her name?"

"If you mean she'd only be good for patching up robots then you'd be wrong," Cayde points out. "But otherwise I'm pretty sure those potions wouldn't do me much good either." He pats himself down, making sure he hasn't lost anything getting yanked around by a giant water lizard. Lastly he draws the knife at his belt, a blade nearly as long as his forearm. He grumbles, giving it a spin before sheathing it again. At least it's a serviceable weapon.

"Right you are though. Better to avoid any um...complications," he says, giving a small nod at Dustin's arm, but at least he should be on the mend now that it's where it should be. "This here's Sundance," the Hunter introduces. "And I'm Cayde but if you're from Temba you probably already caught that."

The Ghost turns towards Dustin, tipping slightly with a bob as though giving him a nod.

Dustin narrows his eyes slightly. She could've... One eyebrow is quirked at Sundance as the little robot appears to politely acknowledge him. ...No, he only ever said her treatment is 'personalized.' Maybe it's a calibration thing. Maybe she's just a little possessive. He probably doesn't know the specifics.

Shaking his head to himself, Dustin abandons that line of thought and instead turns his attention to the salamander's corpse. He doesn't want to, but seeing Cayde play with that knife (which is long enough to nearly be a shortsword, at least if it were in Dustin's hands) has reminded him that his own dagger is still lodged in the creature's cheek. His stomach does a backflip.

Get it together, Thatcher, he chides himself, forcing his feet to move towards the lake. You've dissected stuff for biology lessons. Just because this one's fresh and missing half its head doesn't make it any different.

Somehow, this logic doesn't help much. Dustin finds himself oddly eager to keep Cayde talking. "Yeah, I knew that," he murmurs. "Recognized your voice from the network. I'm, uh. Dustin."

Normally he wouldn't go out of his way to return his name, but Dustin knows he'll need to keep track of Cayde for a while. There's simply too much he needs to repay.

"Heehee, guess I am pretty recognizable," Cayde chuckles, watching as Dustin starts to head down. After a moment, he trails after, Sundance floating alongside him. There's nothing fun up here anyway.

"Dustin." He nods. "Not the best circumstances for a meeting, but what can you do. All this aside, how've you been taking this whole uh...place?" While the kid tries to prepare himself to retrieve his knife from the corpse, the Hunter looks around again. "Never saw a place with such feisty critters." In his experience most things preferred to avoid people, after all, unless reasonably provoked. "Maybe everything here's just super territorial?" he wonders aloud.

Trailing behind him as he is, Cayde probably won't see the incredibly heavy roll of the eyes Dustin gives him, though he does huff an equally exaggerated sigh for his benefit.

"How am I handling this place?" Mounting annoyance does an excellent job of distracting Dustin from the unpleasantness of the task in front of him. He crouches down next to the salamander and plants a foot next to his dagger. "Well, I was minding my own fucking business, fishing, and a six-meter-long amphibian decided that the fish I had on the line wasn't enough for its lunch, or that I was too close to its pile of mud, or whatever the fuck--"

He pauses and wrenches on the knife's handle with grunt of effort. The dagger comes free with a wet squelching noise, the sudden lack of resistance nearly toppling Dustin over.

"--And the best part is, that's not even the first time something like this has happened to me." He scowls at the gore-covered blade with a wrinkled nose. "So you tell me, Cayde. How does it sound like I'm fucking doing?"

It wouldn't be an uncommon response. At least Dustin can't see the grin the Exo pulls in response to the sigh. He waves a hand at Sundance to let her dismiss herself. No point drawing potentially unwanted attention with her out.

"Well, you obviously survived the first time so you've been doing something right," Cayde shrugs, not at all put off by the attitude. He steps around to peer inside the half-roasted amphibian's gaping mouth. "So I'd say you were doing fine!"

Dustin's eyes flicker over to Cayde, turning his scowl on the Hunter as he circles into view. "I'd hardly call having my ass saved twice 'doing something right," he grumbles, "Unless the thing I'm doing is being lucky and stupid. I'm really not--"

Dustin catches a whiff of charred flesh, snatching his attention back to the fact that he's crouching next to a corpse. He can see Cayde through the back of its head. The boy's face goes a little green and he abruptly stands, spinning on his heel to look away and sucking in several deep breaths.

"--Really not cut out for this." Dustin moves to sheathe his dagger but stops short, as he belatedly remembers that the knife is still covered in salamander. He makes another move to wipe it off on his shawl, aborts this as well, gives up entirely and just stares at the blade in confused, silent disgust.

"I mean, if it's only been twice..." Cayde barely stops himself from giving the kid a wave when he catches sight of him through the salamander corpse's head. He gets up again, fishing out a wrinkled rag stained slightly with spots of grease from when he'd been rubbing stuff into the working mechanisms of his now half-melted gun. He steps over, holding it out.

"I get that. You're probably not the only one either. Me, I love running around any inch of wilderness to see what all's out there. Might have to dial it back some until I get a new gun or something though," he says, casting an almost accusatory look back where the thing lay in the mud. "Anyway, you're still out here, making the most of the trip when you could've just stayed up on the ship."

A beat. Dustin's shoulders slump in a defeated sigh. And again...

He snatches up the rag, putting the scowl back on. "Not an option," Dustin murmurs, taking his time to wipe off the blade. His eyes linger on the mechanical grease - something much more familiar to him than the blood. "Thought about it. Too many missed resources and information. Would've been a waste."

The now even more thoroughly stained rag is handed back to Cayde, while Dustin attempts to use his other hand to sheathe the roughly-cleaned dagger. The big knife is more difficult to put away than anticipated, though.

"What was that?" he asks, only half paying attention. "With the gun."

That's something Cayde agrees on, and he nods as Dustin speaks his reasons. "Don't get many opportunities. I make it a point to stock up on what I can when we do get to go off-world somewhere." The weapon selection is something to be desired, but at least there's plenty of other things he can find. And he is determined to have the most dimensionally diverse bar by way of drink selection.

He stares a bit at the rag as it's handed back, now also covered in amphibi-gunk. "Hm? You saw it. Barrel's melted, hammer's probably fused in place. Guess weapons here don't handle solar very well."

Dustin passes Cayde a flat look alongside the rag. "No shit," he drones, using both hands now to sheathe the dagger. "Basic observations are not my concern. 'Solar'--do you mean that literally? Some kind of fusion energy channeling?"

The Hunter raises his hands- and rag- in a shrug. "Pretty literally, anyway," he says. "Comes with the Guardian-Ghost package. Space magic." The grin can be heard in his voice.

He holds the rag out and the hand grasping it flares with that same golden fire. The rag is incinerated, which takes care of problem, and Cayde extends two fingers as a fiery throwing knife forms between them. He opens his fingers and lets the flames vanish.

"There's solar, void, and arc. Obvious what my personal preference is."

Dustin's expression seems to be lifting with interest...right up until Cayde calls it 'space magic.' His face falls past flat and into annoyance. No wonder this asshole doesn't know how his shit works, if he's just brushing it off as fucking magic, Dustin rationalizes. Even the flashy display of his powers isn't enough to impress him out of the resulting foul mood.

But there is one thing - a thought, which has the teen blinking in consideration.

"You prefer to use an ability that melts your own weapon?" he asks, more leading than incredulous. "Have you ever figured out a way to make it not wreck your own shit?"

If Dustin wanted to talk technicalities he was better off talking to a Warlock. Cayde totally isn't grinning behind his helmet as he watches the teenager's shifting expressions.

The question is unexpected and gains a snort. For a metal man he sure does a lot of huffing and sighing despite a lack of lungs. "If I had my hand cannon, it wouldn't have been a problem. Honestly I didn't think it'd be one here, because usually it don't matter what I'm holding. Either we just build 'em sturdier on Earth or whatever operates in this world doesn't mesh well with whatever I work with."

Cayde's explanation is along the lines of what Dustin is thinking. If this is a well-known power set, then surely weapons would be developed to accommodate them, right? Or at least weather them better than one use - otherwise that would be one hell of a resource sink.

"It's almost certainly the materials," he considers, scratching at his chin. "Or an industry-standard heat shunt. If it's actually some kind of localized fusion event, you might even get away with an EM-field that redirects plasma away from..."

Dustin trails off as he internalizes the rest of that thought, eyes twitching while he works out the numbers. That's...not impossible. If my assumptions about his abilities are correct, anyway. Needs testing.

"...Sure, yeah," Dustin says, an answer to an unspoken question, and squares his shoulders. "I think I could do that."

The Hunter would lament all the beautiful guns he'd inadvertently destroy too, if that were a thing. Guardianing hadn't come with an instruction manual however, and he's pretty sure there were plenty of them freaking out the first time anyone learned they could self-combust with a thought.

"Materials," he agrees with a nod. "Personally I think whoever's making guns here spends too much time in the look over the operation. I mean, I like a flashy looking thing but not if it's crap for balance." He knows for a fact you can make flashy and functional. He hadn't been much impressed with the performance of the last gun he'd been using either. Maybe it's good enough for most of the run-of-the-mill monsters running about, but it still had felt all over the place.

He realizes the kid's been quiet for a bit, looking over then with a blink.

"Do what?"

Dustin blinks back at him, as if what he'd been thinking was obvious.

"Modify one of these guns to not melt when you use your abilities," he states. "Plasmas are already ionized, so you wouldn't need too powerful of a magnetic field to shift the majority of the heat away from the gun's surface. The real trick is allowing for all that energy to still flow into the individual bullets without wearing down the barrel from the inside." Dustin plants his hands on his hips. "Doable, but not trivial. Right?"

"Huh!" Cayde lifts his helmeted head a bit at that before giving a nod. "I'm not usually the one putting those things together and honestly have no idea what smiths have to work with around here- so yeah, definitely not trivial. I'll take your word for do-ability." Banshee's the gun expert and alas, he is not here, although Cayde imagined the poor old Exo would get himself hopelessly lost somewhere or another if he was, as shot as his memory is.

"If you can manage to throw something together that I can use solar here in a pinch, then I'll be impressed."

Dustin shrugs, but spares Cayde the details. The tools and resources allotted to him from the various crafting guilds is not nearly as much as he'd like, but it's still way more than he's had back on Agra-10. He's spoiled for choice, by comparison. The other craftspeople don't even bother him too much while he's working, so he's not terribly concerned with getting found out because someone snoops on his projects. As long as he gets their work done, everyone's happy.

But there is one thing he needs to make clear. "I'm not doing this for your approval," Dustin says, deadpan. "I owe you a favor--several favors. Consider this one of them repaid, if I can get it done. Deal?"

Two Weird Planets

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